


Replacement

by marshv



Category: Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: Canon Universe, Dubious Consent, Fear, Intimidation, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, Straight Razors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshv/pseuds/marshv
Summary: There was nothing to be afraid of. Mr. Todd was a perfectly well-adjusted gentleman. Nothing out of the ordinary.Though he did seem to be awfully preoccupied with Anthony’s hair.





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> This movie came out when I was 14 holy shit
> 
> This is.... a weird fic. I feel like they’re both OOC but ehhhh. Sweeney Todd is a weird dude.

Sweeney Todd. What an odd man. Anthony avoided prying when he found him, sensing him to be a very private person. This conclusion was drawn from the way he kept his eyes straight ahead, the way he kept a physical distance, as well as the short, stern answers he’d give.

He neither returned Anthony’s smiles, nor shared his enthusiasm when they began to dock. In fact, he was the furthest thing from enthused, hollow eyes burning through the city into some secret place Anthony couldn’t see.

But even when he failed to shake his hand as they parted ways, Anthony hadn’t felt any ill will towards him. Because even though Todd walked with purpose, clearly not needing any pity, there was an underlying sadness. As Anthony watched him go, he was confident—despite the man’s strange behavior—that they would meet again.

-

Todd’s building stood out like a sore thumb: dilapidated and crumbling from disrepair. Paint peeling, dusty and unused, a testament to the life of the man who used to live there.

The stairs leading to the shop creaked as he ascended them. 

“Hello?” he called out when he reached the top, knocking on the door with haste. “Mr. Todd?”

For a moment there was no answer. But he heard footsteps on the other side.

“It’s Anthony, sir. I just wanted to—“

The door swung open before he could finish. There was Mr. Todd. Same as he was yesterday. The same disgruntled frown Anthony was familiar with. Same dark eyes. He stood there, in the doorway, one hand holding it open, looking at Anthony like he was a stranger. He searched over his face, brooding eyes the pinnacle of exhaustion.

However, Todd’s grim face didn’t stop Anthony from beaming. A grin overtook his features, contrasting sharply with the expression of the other.

“Hello there! It’s a pleasure to see you again, my friend!” he enthused, sticking out a hand. His smile softened considerably when Todd remained indifferent. “I hope you don’t mind my dropping by. It’s just—“

“It’s fine,” he gruffed. “Come in.”

It wasn’t a request nor a polite suggestion. But an order. A demand. And Anthony simply stared at him, caught off guard that he was being invited in so easily. Todd didn’t seem like the type of man keen on entertaining guests.

But he didn’t question it. Todd stepped aside and held the door, ignoring Anthony’s attempts at a handshake. He stopped looking Anthony in the face, and now gave a peculiar, extended gaze along the length of his body, squinting at him. 

“You’re here sooner than I expected,” Todd mentioned, securing the door. 

“Sorry… is this a bad time?” Anthony apologized, even though Todd had been the one to invite him in. He puzzled over the statement. 

Todd didn’t bother looking at him. His stare was off to the side, looking at nothing in particular. Frozen in place a million miles away. He meandered towards his barber chair, hands closing over the back of it, like it was a precious, delicate thing. He continued to hold himself with that same, unearthly stance when they’d first docked. Simultaneously meant to show his confidence, it also sent off energy demanding that he be left alone, urging people away. Buried deep in thought, his whole visage was a quiet warning not to be disturbed.

Nothing was said, and a long quietness followed. It was long enough that Anthony felt a swarm of angry bees begin buzzing in his gullet. But eventually Todd came back from whatever stupor he was in, blinking, and casting his eyes in Anthony’s direction as he finally replied.

“No. Of course not,” he uttered like it was obvious, like there had been no silence at all.

Nodding, Anthony acknowledged him.

“Why don’t you come and have a seat?” he asked. But like before, it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a suggestion. And Anthony obeyed the command without anything besides a nod, too stifled by the thick air in the room to ask. 

As he sat down, Mr. Todd offered a fake looking smile, one forced and intimidating, and only faintly friendly. Then ignored him in favor of pacing.

Anthony chose to cough, returning the smile, and coming up with a topic for small talk.

“This is where you lived before all the trouble started, isn’t it?” Anthony mentioned. “It’s in quite a prime location.”

To his surprised, Todd hummed an affirmative.

“Business was good. We lived well,” he muttered without hesitating. He unfolded a robe, waving it with a flourish then draped it around Anthony, who didn’t object.

“Will you be taking up barbering again then?” 

There was the distinct, metallic sound of a blade being opened. Anthony’s entire body flinched.

“That’s right,” Todd drawled— voice smoother now, lower, not seeming to notice the way the other jumped. “To get things back to way they were.” 

Anthony snuck a look behind him, his body tense. Todd stalled by continuing to take small, slow steps around the chair.

In his hand there was a silver shear. A fine one. Likely very old and very expensive. It was clear in the way he handled it that he was an long-learned expert. _A proper artist with a knife_ , Anthony thought. He was cleaning the ends with a piece of fabric, flipping it back and forth between his fingers. It glimmered dimly in the hazy light coming from the dirty window.

The movements of it were hypnotic. And Anthony found himself entranced by Todd’s masterful fingers, twirling the blade over and over again without a care, unbothered by its sharp edge. So many times it touched his skin. At least a dozen different instances when it should have nicked him, but none did. It was remarkable. Almost inhuman.

“Happy news then,” Anthony tumbled from his daze, swallowing. He changed the subject. “How did you sleep last night?”

Todd didn’t take his eyes off his razor.

“I didn’t.”

Anthony flinched again. 

“Oh.”

Neither of them said anything and Anthony averted his gaze. The blunt reply was worrisome—though it did explain Todd’s mood. The silence between words felt quicker this time. Possibly because a large portion of Anthony’s conscious was preoccupied with thoughts of a sleep deprived Todd wielding a razor.

But then he was greeted by something unexpected. On his shoulder, he felt the pressure of Todd’s hand. It was vague— too light to be intentional, but too firm to be an accident. He tried to ignore it as best he could, but it was so unlike Todd’s previous way—how he’d always keep a safe distance between them.

“I understand,” Anthony said, trying not to think of the hand. “You must have days of work ahead of you, sleeping can’t be easy at the moment. Are you certain it’s alright I’m here?”

“It’s fine,” Todd snapped, and Anthony shut his mouth. His voice was closer. Or louder. Todd’s hand started to circle Anthony’s shoulder. Gentle, insignificant movements, but movements all the same. He made note of the fact that Todd was still holding the knife.

“I don’t really have any reason to be here,” Anthony tried again, feeling suffocated by his own apprehension. “If I’m bothering you, I could leave.” 

“No,” he retorted, demanded. “Stay. It must have been cold last night.”

The final sentence caught him off guard.  It was almost teasing. The harshness, the finality of the word _stay_ , had Anthony shuddering. And when he did, the hand on his shoulder tightened. Todd’s thumb rubbed his muscles, the other fingers squeezing the meat of his shoulder. This was a shoulder massage wasn’t it? Something that all professional barbers did.  

Normal and casual. Right? This was okay.

“Stay here.” Todd insisted, persuaded, robbing Anthony of his train of thought. “There’s a spare room downstairs. You can have it for yourself.”

That was hard to pass up. Anthony couldn’t, in his right mind, refuse the offer. He knew that. Not when Mr. Todd was offering with such a softness—a timid whisper—and not when he had nowhere else to go.

He felt the other lean in closer. For what reason, he didn’t know. But he was tickled by a mop of black hair that caressed over his cheek. He was right next to him. Todd smelled like stale bread, but also a delicious aroma of imported cologne. There was no sound. Nothing aside from their gentle breathing.

Then, without any kind of warning, the razor snuck up to his neck. Sneaky and silent. Slow enough to surprise him. Anthony heard himself make an audible whimper. But the blade didn’t touch him. Not yet. It was just close enough to tease the very fine hairs that grew from his jaw, stalling there.

Anthony wondered then, at the cold kiss of silver, if Sweeney Todd was truly just an unusual fellow. And if maybe this was all standard barber procedure and he was perfectly sane. Maybe, he had always been this—this quiet, intimidating man who gave strange pauses between every sentence and possessed a fascinating ability to make Anthony feel both terrified and curious.

Or maybe Mr. Todd was dangerous. Maybe the story of his past was simply a lie to gain sympathy. Maybe Todd was a remorseless, notorious criminal, one who deserved to be locked up and isolated for the safety of England.

But in all likelihood, Anthony was just thinking awful thoughts about a poor man who simply wanted his company. 

Anthony became aware of firm fingers clutching at him, the razor still under his jaw. He hasn’t given Todd any kind of answer yet, he realized.

“Yes. Yes that sounds lovely,” Anthony, at last, forced out. The room offer. He needed a room.

Todd loosened his hand.

“Consider it a thank you,” he replied without missing a beat. “For saving me.”

“Oh,” Anthony could do nothing but force a chuckle. “That’s very generous of you, sir, really it is.”

He shifted in his seat. And ever so trivially, he felt the brush of metal as it ghosted over his skin again. Trained, timid traces along his jaw. The razor’s edge going back and forth, the wrong direction. Slicing. But not hard enough to break the skin. Anthony realized he’d be dead if Todd pressed just a little harder.

But even with that knowledge, all he did was sit still. Breathing weak. Thinking and waiting while Todd inspected like a doctor, as if Anthony were a very peculiar, very rare specimen. 

Then he heard humming. A distinct, melancholy humming. Bittersweet. The same somber sound Anthony heard on the ship. Before he and Mr. Todd had parted ways and he’d talked about his wife.

Todd grasped Anthony’s jaw, turning it this way and that, thumb feathering over the nearly non-existent stubble on his chin. The sudden touch made Anthony startle.

“A shave as well?” Todd hummed. His voice was low, but sincere, truly asking permission now. And it was spoken next to Anthony’s ear. With a gentle breath, he brushed aside his wavy locks.

“If you insist, sir” Anthony struggled to respond through Todd’s grip on his chin. The knife still threatened his jugular.

Todd was watching him from his spot at Anthony’s cheek. He stared into Anthony’s skin like it could answer any question in the universe. It was unnerving. His hand began massaging again with a delicate touch, stroking his neck. But as tender as it was, his eyes were still cold.

Todd looked at his nose, his neck, his hair. He took it all in at a slow pace, putting Anthony together like a puzzle. As he did, the blade slid closer, and Anthony had to wonder if Mr. Todd even remembered it was there.

“Have you ever considered...changing your hair?”

_What?_

The question came from nowhere. A low, hushed whisper, it was slow, but curious. His entire voice carried a hint of a challenge with it.

“Sorry?” Anthony eventually cleared his throat. He ignored the breathing near his temple and was utterly baffled by the suggestion.

The razor again, jumped a nudge, and Anthony held his breath reminding himself who he was with. Todd was a good man, a trusted man. This was all very okay.

“Your hair, my friend,” Todd said again, and Anthony could feel an unsettling smile creeping into place against his cheek. “I could give you a shave, as I offered, but a new color up top would be of a much greater benefit to you.”

“I—Whatever you think is best, my friend,” he affirmed. The tips of his fingers had begun to bore into the armrests, clenching and digging as he remained still.

“Good lad,” Todd smiled—he smiled, a real one this time—and the razor on Anthony’s neck was lifted.

The sound of the razor clattering on the floor prompted a reaction of both relief and worry. Anthony let out a massive breath and his shoulders fell.

When Mr. Todd pulled away, Anthony was left wondering where exactly the razor had fallen, and if Todd was just moving to pick it up and hold it to his neck again. The fingers at his neck lingered, tracing a ghostly path, like a powder puff being dragged across his throat.

“Pale skin, yellow hair—It’s a timeless look.”

There was no clue as to what started all this. The comments about his hair. Easing him into something. Asking him. But Anthony had no idea what it was Todd wanted. He’d been looking at his hair a lot though.

“I do think it would suit you,” he said again, voice dropping to an almost inaudible mumble. And Anthony was positive he heard him chuckle.

“Mr. Todd?” he asked, swallowing down the fear in his throat. He didn’t know what he was asking. Didn’t even know if he wanted a response. But it felt too quiet when Todd stopped talking. Too sinister. Like any second a cleaver would come down on his neck. Or a pair of barber shears. And he hated— _hated_ —that he felt that way. Felt this fear. It was illogical. Todd was a good man.

“Blondes have such an easy time. Life—It’s kinder to them.”

“Do they?” Anthony didn’t mean to ask. But it came out anyway.

Todd hummed. There was a darkness permeating through the room, seeping from him, and Anthony felt the same melancholy from the man as he did when they first met. A change so sudden Anthony was questioning himself, wondering if Todd really had chuckled just a moment ago. Or if he’d simply misheard.

The sound of something hollow clattered on a table and Anthony assumed they were a collection of bowls. Mixing bowls for whatever barbers used to color hair. 

Anthony stayed quiet, fingers still fiddling with the armrests of Todd’s barber chair. Thinking. Waiting. Not for anything in particular. He could leave. Nothing was keeping him there. But he didn’t. Todd slathered his hair with something foul smelling and Anthony winced.

When Todd was done, Anthony watched him step towards the large window overlooking the street, staring, just staring. Hands clasped behind his back, his face like stone. He could have been a statue if it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest.

The preoccupation Todd had with skin compelled Anthony to notice the man’s own complexion. He hadn’t realized before how pale he was. Not a lovely, rare pale like a beautiful lady or a string of pearls, but a sickly, dying whiteness. Deathly and cold. Almost corpse-like had it not been for the wild energy in Todd’s eyes. And Anthony wondered what he was thinking. 

Time passed slowly. There was no conversation. No quips. Not even a simple question. But there were odd glances. Every so often, Todd would cast his eyes back at him, still unreadable as ever. The glances would last a few seconds at first, but gradually dragged on, until over time they began to last for up to a minute—an eternity. 

After what felt like hours, Todd was at his hair again. Anthony didn’t know nor care what he was doing. Now there was only an instinct to finish this meeting. Which was rude. He wasn’t going to run. Wasn’t going to ruin the one relationship he had in town. 

Todd cleaned his hair of whatever concoction he’d put there. Fingers ran through his wet locks, combing, removing tangles. His fingers slid along his scalp. Too languid. Too deliberate. Like he was petting him.

Then it was gone. Anthony’s hair draped back to where it was. A few strands fell over his eyes and he saw the brilliant blonde that replaced his brunette. Todd circled around him to his front. The look on his face was still a blank canvas, open for any interpretation.

When Todd crouched slightly, leaning in close, Anthony kept his eyes locked onto his. He wasn’t saying anything. Wasn’t giving any clues. The only thing Anthony was able to pick up on was the way one of Todd’s hands curled.

It reached Anthony’s face. The pressure of knuckles passed over his cheek, thumbing under his eyes, while his other hand journeyed to his neck again. It was soft. All of it was soft. Todd stroked his skin, feeling him, eyes once again roaming his face.

Then, in a sudden change, Anthony saw him frown. It wasn’t a deep one. Or an angry one. It was only a hidden sadness. Befuddlement. Todd seemed like he was having an argument with himself. With Anthony there as his unwilling witness. Warm, smooth breath breezed across his face, smelling of ale and coffee—not at all unpleasant.

“Mr. Todd?” Anthony, through some stroke of will, managed to break the silence.

“Shh…” was all he got in response.

Instead of frustration. Instead of any other appropriate feeling towards the thing happening in front of him—whatever it was—Anthony just sighed. At ease from Todd’s stroking hand.

The fingers on his face and neck tingled. And against his better judgment, actually began to feel rather good. It was the massage again, and Anthony assured himself it was all normal. The way Todd leaned into him. The way he stared. The way he caressed his cheek like he was a long lost lover. The way his eyes had fallen half shut and broke contact. The way their noses were touching.

The way he kissed him. It was all normal.

Actually, that last one might not be all that normal. Not normal at all, really.

Anthony had no time to react before it happened. Or maybe he did. It happened so gradually after all. But it seemed so fast. He was lost on what to do. He didn’t move, thinking better of it. And he didn’t push him away. That would be rude. He assumed this was a cultural difference. That’s all it was. A cultural miscommunication. 

The glide of lips across his own sent a new bubble of nerves down his chest. It wasn’t like any of the girls he’s kissed, not that he’d kissed many. And it didn’t have the same thrill as trespassing into a restricted building.

This was something else. A different thrill.

This made Anthony’s eyes roll back before they closed, eyelids fluttering. Anthony’s mouth fell open just the smallest inch. It had his heart pounding, hammering like a fist into his ribs. Todd was hardly even moving, but the plushness of their lips pressing together sent his pulse skyrocketing. His face heated up hot enough that he swore there was a furnace somewhere.

Just as soon as it began, it ended. Anthony was vaguely aware of the loss of heat in front of him, as well as the lack of lips on his own. He was left much the same as before, besides his racing heart. Todd didn’t bother with any excesses or formalities. He didn’t bring his bottom lip into his mouth or lavish it with rhythmic fondling. It was a chaste, but prolonged touch of skin, one that Anthony was having a troublesome time recovering from.

Opening his eyes took energy he didn’t have. But when he did, Todd was looking at him in much the way he had earlier—before the kiss. His eyes were blank, showing nothing and hiding everything. And underneath the surface brewed a stew of frustration and forced propriety. It was almost impossible to notice, and mostly only visible because of the secret way his mouth twitched.

“Hmm.”

Todd hummed to him. Or to himself. Pondering and wondering the next course of action while Anthony just watched. He’d never really noticed the shape of his cheeks before. Nor the strong brow framing his face. Nor did he see how lovely the sharpness of his jaw complimented the severity of his eyes. 

“Mmm. Mr. Todd?”

Anthony was having trouble thinking. His blood had abandoned his brain and gone entirely to his cheeks. He blinked. Eyelids fluttering again to get his wits about him. When he did finally register what had happened, he choked, coughing like he’d fallen face first into a pile of flour.

“Shh,” Todd urged him, his expression frozen, but his voice tender. “It’s alright. The blonde really does suit you.”

“Are you feeling well, my friend?” Anthony has to ask him. Despite the fact that he was still reeling, trying to make sense of what happened.

Todd chuckled, but it lacked any humor. It was sarcastic and pained. The side of his mouth curled into a half sneer and it was the most emotion Anthony had ever seen on him. It was striking. Mesmerizing. And he gave Anthony a knowing look.

“Better than I have in fifteen years.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no fucking clue if they bleached hair in the 1800s and I fail at google so whatever. Anthony is just like “lol ok” throughout this whole thing.
> 
> Please come talk to me on [tumblr](http://dipperpines.com/) and remember that I take [commissions](http://dipperpines.com/fics)


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